


natsukashii

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: That last one stung. He would say stuff like this, little things that made her think maybe she did really mean a lot to him. She sighed. “Well, there are terms and conditions to having your own Rose Tyler.”His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Name them, I’ll sign away.”Ten x Rose, fluff
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	natsukashii

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: "I've missed this."

"It’s bloody freezing,” she said through chattering teeth, curled up on the jump seat, not quite willing to take his coat off yet. It had pissed it down with rain on their way back to the TARDIS and she knew she should have a bath and get out of these wet clothes, but she was just _too bloody cold_.

“You still haven’t moved?” His voice came from the door, reentering the control room with his hair wet and freshly washed and his pyjamas looking _so_ warm and cosy. He tapped her feet and she shifted, noisily and with protest, so he could plop down on the seat next to her. “I’d say you’ll catch a cold, but that’s just a myth. But you’re not doing yourself any favours.”

“It’s too cold to move.”

“If you can spend the night in an igloo for a 50 quid bet then you can walk the 20 seconds to your bathroom in a wet jumper and soggy jeans.”

She grunted, and he took that to mean she wasn’t quite in the mood for sarcasm. He chuckled softly.

“I’ll start running you a bath.” 

“Help me up?” She held out her hand feebly once he’d pulled himself up onto his feet.

He shook his head. “Nope. But, because I’m a solid mate, I’ll come and get you when it’s ready.“

“Solid mate,” she agreed, closing her eyes. “Ten out of ten. Would recommend to another friend.”

He waved his hand up as he left the console room and she grinned. 

Eventually, with only great strength and relentless willpower, she pulled herself up, without the help of the Doctor. She braved movement in those wet clothes, groaning as she shuffled to her bathroom and shrieking when she shed his coat and her jumper. Her jeans were damply fused with her legs and she wasn’t surprised to discover she couldn’t feel her toes when she took her socks off. She closed her bathroom door, slipping into the hot water and melting to the smell of lavender in the bath salts. She smiled when she saw the fresh cup of steaming hot tea he’d left for her next to a neatly folded pair of flannel pyjamas. She’d just settled back down comfortably amidst the bubbles, mug in hand, when he slipped through the door with his own cup of tea. 

_Of course._

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

She gestured to the bath. 

“It’s good, isn’t it? Lavender and camomile. 900 years, you learn a thing or two about baths.”

She tilted her head. “ _I’m in the bath_. Do we need to go back over _Physical Boundaries 101_?”

He scoffed impatiently and rolled his eyes. “Promise I won’t look.” 

He settled down on the floor next to the bath, legs crossed. He caught her glare and sighed in resignation, shuffling so that his back was leaning against the bath and she could have a little more privacy. She reached out to give his still quite wet hair a gentle ruffle as a thank-you. 

They sat in a silence that was, for the first time in a long time, comfortable. She’d been mending herself after Mickey left over the past few weeks, and the Doctor had given her the space to do so. She knew she’d been unreasonable at times, snapping at him and taking her frustration out at the nearest living specimen rather than herself, but he was patient with her, refraining from snapping back at her when she was being unfair, except to call her out on it. She was grateful that he was finally being _honest_ with her about something, even if it was about her misdirected anger. Their recent trips had been filled with adventure; she’d usually get back to the TARDIS and be too knackered to do anything other than slump into bed. She suspected he’d been looking for trouble in the hopes of distracting her from her heartbreak.

Sometimes, though, on her worst days, she thought maybe he wanted to tire her out so much because he didn’t particularly enjoy being around her as much anymore. First, there was Sarah Jane, and she worried that maybe some of his old feelings had surfaced. He’d invited _Mickey,_ maybe as a distraction for Rose to not suspect that he’d gone off the idea of them or that he even thought about a _them_ in the first place. Then, of course, there was Reinette, and he was so utterly grief-stricken after he lost her that she wondered whether she would get the same kind of response when _she_ died. And on her _even worse days_ , she suspected not.

She realised they must have spent at least 15 minutes alone with their own thoughts because he tilted his head back to finish the last of his tea and put the mug on the floor besides him. 

“I've missed this,” she mused. “You and me, just us two.”

“Yeah, me too,” he smiled, leaning his head back on the side of the bath. “Although, we did have a few weeks there where it was just us two.”

“Yeah but I was still getting used to you then." She shrugged, taking a sip of her _really quite perfect_ cup of tea. This Doctor was bloody good at tea. "Before that of course was Jack, and before him was Adam- ”

“Bloody _Adam_.”

She scoffed. “You know who you sound like?”

“Who?”

“The old you.”

“I _am_ the old me,” he protested. “I’ve not suddenly grown a fondness for _bloody Adam_ since I became a new man so it’s not surprising.”

She tried not to chuckle too audibly; she _loved_ teasing any version of the Doctor about Adam. “And even before then, we were busting out of Downing Street with Harriet Jones.”

“Bloody Harriet Jones.”

“Stop it, you!”

“Well, you don’t half pick ‘em.”

“Oi! What's that mean?!"

“Bringing all these men aboard my ship.”

She scoffed. “Men? Jack?”

“Fair enough.”

They both chuckled quietly. His hair was nearly dry now, and it looked devilishly tempting. He really did have a great head of hair, she thought. He was a bit more tactile; he didn’t mind the occasional tickle fight or the odd hand and wrist massage if he'd strained it. But she was still a bit too nervous to run her hands through that hair. She traced the letters on her mug instead and the air tensed somehow. She glanced over at him and he was still wearing a small smile, lost in thought about something. It was just her, then. She considered not saying anything, but it had been burning her tongue holding it in all this time that she might go mad with it if she didn’t finally say _something._

“You really hurt me, Doctor.”

She watched him carefully. His expression didn’t change instantly, but that smile faded until his face settled on a glimpse of his own disdain. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Perhaps it was the relaxing scent from the bath or the fact that he was sitting besides her in his pyjamas and she felt completely safe to do so, but she finally felt ready to talk about it. “Why’d you do it?”

He shook his head, hopelessly searching for the right words. “I’ve thought a lot about that myself and I honestly can’t tell you why I did it.”

“You could have done _anything_ else,” she whispered, still not taking her eyes off him. Watching him, although for what she wasn’t sure. He never gave anything away, this one. At least with her old Doctor, she could tell by the degree of his anger how upset he was, or at what point in his misery did it turn to his need for her. But this Doctor would show anger when he was angry, would sulk when he was sad and would openly panic when afraid but when he was _really_ angry, when he was _really_ sad or _really_ afraid, he would turn stony, impossible to read. She never knew if she was talking to someone ready to rip holes in the universe out of anger or someone who was trying their best to keep their hearts from shattering. “You _always_ find a way. And if you didn’t, if you _couldn’t_ have found a way, you wouldn’t have left us there alone. But, you did.”

“I didn’t think I _was_ \- I mean, you had the TARDIS there with you, you _did_ have a way out. I just really didn’t think it through.”

“No, you didn’t,” she swallowed, fighting back the tears she was furious with for daring to manifest. She pushed through; it was a rare occasion she felt like she had the moral high ground, or at least the upper hand in their relationship, whatever it was at this point. “And it hurt even more because it was for _one woman_. It wasn’t like the course of history was about to change if she’d died 5 years sooner.”

“We couldn’t know that. Clockwork droids didn’t exactly pop up in the 18th century and claim the throne of France in her place-”

“That wasn't what I meant.”

He sighed. “I know.”

She put her empty cup on the soap dish, bringing an island of bubbles closer to her. She lightly prodded at them, considering the action more carefully whilst she summoned the courage to ask her next question. “Who was she, to you?”

His hesitance was audible and she could feel his frustration, in turn teasing hers. But she bit her tongue, convincing herself this was the only time she was going to talk about it, and she didn’t want it to be a row. 

“She was…” his eyes had closed and she had to fight her inner anxiety telling her that he was imagining _her_ now. Picturing her in his mind, maybe even wishing that it were _her_ in this bath besides him instead. _Stop it_ , she instructed herself. His brow furrowed and she felt oddly cold in this still quite hot water. _Why_ she’d decided to do this when she was completely naked was a question she wasn’t able to answer. She huffed, realising she’d rather not know his answer than hear him say whatever it is he was too afraid of saying to her. _Don’t you dare cry_.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said, hoping for it to sound a little less sad than it did. 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” His eyes flickered open and he looked straight ahead of him, although he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Still _so_ stoic. 

Now would have been an excellent time for him to leave, so she could sink down into this bath and cry. She closed her eyes once she felt the sting of those tears stark to prickle again. It _did_ matter, of course it did. He told her nothing would ever happen between them because he’s just going to lose her anyway not a week before, and then actively chose to spend the remainder of a woman’s life - a far more beautiful, accomplished, intelligent woman and which also happened to be _just five years_ -, with her. He’d rather have five years with this woman and then an eternity alone stuck on the slow path than the rest of Rose’s life with Rose. If _that_ wasn’t explicitly saying “I’m just not interested in _you_ ”, then she wasn’t as good at this game as she thought she was. 

She opened her eyes and felt the rush of embarrassment spread hotly throughout her body as she saw him watching her curiously. She once more gestured to herself and then back at him.

“Eyes?”

But he continued to look at her as if he hadn’t heard her, or was choosing not to. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?” She blinked.

“It _does_ matter.” 

“What does?”

“Her - ” he shook his head “ - well, no not her. You.”

“Getting your blondes mixed up again?”

“Taking that frustration out on me again?”

“Rightly so, it’s _you_ who I’m pissed off with this time.”

He nodded. “That’s fair.” 

She meticulously reached across to another, now more lacking in number and frequency, group of bubbles to cover herself with, now that the persistent lord of time wouldn’t heed her warning and look away. He’d told her countless times that she was from a modest age of mankind, that he wasn’t new to the sight of a naked woman but she still didn’t feel _quite_ ready enough to have him see her lying down, stark naked, even more so in her feelings. And _especially_ considering she hadn’t shaved or checked to see if that stray nipple hair was getting out of hand.

She was considering asking him to leave her alone, except she didn’t _want_ him to leave her alone. What sort of hellish chaos had become of her life now? Is this what being in love with somebody who didn’t feel the same way felt like? She’d been in a similar situation with Jimmy, only she wasn’t aware he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. Or she chose not to believe he did, which made it _hurt_. Oh, God did it hurt. But _this_? _Knowing_ he didn’t feel the same way, _knowing_ that she was such a small and insignificant part of his life when he was _all_ of hers. She’d never considered herself a masochist, but by staying with this man, she realised she must be. 

“Just us,” he said quietly. “That’s all I want. Me and you, the Doctor and Rose Tyler. No more boyfriends, no more long lost friends or jealousy or games. Just _you_.”

That last one stung. He would say stuff like this, little things that made her think maybe she did really mean a lot to him. She sighed. Masochist. “Well, there are terms and conditions to having your own Rose Tyler.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Name them, I’ll sign away.”

“Now I _know_ you’re not one of those people who reads the terms and conditions.”

“Oh, _absolutely_ not!” he scoffed. “Bloody dreadful things. But I take this particular request with utmost seriousness.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Ok then. One. These baths are expected now. You set the bar too high for yourself and it’s only disappointment if I don’t get more of them habitually.”

“Define “ _habitually_ ”.”

“At least one a week, two if I’m having a shit week.”

“I accept this term and condition,” he nodded firmly.

“Two. I get to have _you_ in return.”

“Done already, next.”

“Three. You let me run my hands through your hair whenever I want.”

He scowled and wagged his finger. “No, sorry. Can’t. It takes too long to fix it in the mornings, I’m not having you mess it up.”

“Ok, proposed amendment," she suggested, and he allowed it. "Three. You let me run my hands through your hair whenever I want _only after_ three hours of you fixing it in the morning.”

He took a moment to consider. “Agreed.”

“Four-“

“ _Four_? How many of these terms are there?!”

“There are more added the more times you piss me off.”

“So I’m going to be here a while then?”

She smirked, reaching out to his hair to play with it. He opened his mouth to protest but she butted in first. “You haven’t fixed it yet, it’s mine!”

“Fine,” he grumbled in defeat. “Four?”

“One snog, at any time of my own choosing.”

He scoffed. “I commend your bravery for asking me that whilst naked.”

“I’m kidding,” she teased. “Besides, it doesn’t need to be in the T&Cs for me to get one off you.”

“' you ask to snog _all_ your mates?”

“Damn _right_ I do,” she said proudly. “Snogging’s great, you should try it sometime.”

When he shook his head she smirked, deciding to tease him some more.

“Snogging’s like this modern-day word for “ _kissing_ ”, but with a bit more enthusiasm. Bit more tongue, bit more hands. Bit less serious, _lot more_ fun. It’s what the young kids are doing these days.” 

“You want to snog someone you think is too old to understand what snogging is?”

“ _Four,_ ” she persisted. “I wanna see Elvis.”

“Presley?”

“Well, _duh_. And I don’t mean one of those impersonators or an officiator. I’m talking 1950’s, I get to wear a nice dress, you have to put your hair in quiff - ”

“You really want backstage access to my hair don’t you?” He tapped her hand away from his head and she pouted. He took one look at her and gave in. “Fine. But only because Elvis is the king for a reason. Bloody _marvellous_ , he is.”

She smirked smugly, itching her hand back closer to his hair and he only sighed defeatedly when she reached it. 

“There’s more I take it?”

“Just one.”

“You’re lucky I like you so much, prioritising the whole of time and space second only to meeting all your demands.”

“Five. Pass me that towel and bloody _shoo_.”


End file.
